


A Hell of a Meeting

by destiel88



Series: Fantasynatural [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fantasynatural, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 06:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destiel88/pseuds/destiel88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through Hell’s eternal night, the howls of the hellhounds grew closer. The only sound louder than them was Dean’s own heartbeat, which pounded steadily in his ears. Dean could barely see anything as he ran, stumbling on the ground, trying to find a way to circle back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hell of a Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for my fantasy blog, [Fantasynatural](http://fantasynatural.tumblr.com/). Check out the time line [here](http://fantasynatural.tumblr.com/fictionml). The artwork is by the co-owner of the same blog, [noCek](http://nocek.tumblr.com/). If you want, you can find me on my tumblr, [Destiel88](http://destiel88.tumblr.com/).

Through Hell’s eternal night, the howls of the hellhounds grew closer. The only sound louder than them was Dean’s own heartbeat, which pounded steadily in his ears. Dean could barely see anything as he ran, stumbling on the ground, trying to find a way to circle back.

The land that Dean ran on was slick and spongy like clammy flesh so it was hard for him to keep steady footing. It also sloped oddly, dipping and rising at different intervals. On top of that, there were bottomless pits and caves that could literally swallow a man whole.

Dean could still hear Sam’s scream ringing in his ears when he had fallen into one of these pitfalls. He had tried to find the hole in which Sam fell, but the hellhounds were on their heels. Though Dean didn’t want to leave his brother, he couldn’t allow them to capture him, or Sam would die in that hole.

As Dean ran, all he could think was that this was Brady’s fault. They had been hunting some werewolf in Moondoor when Sam received a message from an old friend named Brady. They had known each other since they were at Masters’ Mage College together, before the fire that had killed Sam’s fiancé, Jessica. Brady needed a favor, and Sam was more than willing to reconnect with his friend.

However, when they arrived, Brady quickly led them into a trap. Brady had been living in the Sanctuary where the all the reformed Demons took refuge. While Dean didn’t believe Demons could be good, Sam believed in it wholeheartedly. They went to Brady’s new cabin blindly, and the Demons surprised them. The two of them had fought hard, but not only did Brady have powerful allies, the brothers had been tricked into leaving their weapons at their tavern. The Demon won in the end, capturing and shipping them directly to Hell.

After that, the Demons did what they did to every Mortal they captured, they forced Sam and Dean into ratty, brown prison uniforms then hung them on the racks. All around the encampment, rundown tents with thin, leather tarps loomed over the area, each housing a Demon ready to rip the Mortals to shreds. Waiting in front of each tent for the Demons were metal trays littered with blood-rusted instruments with wheels that squeaked as they rolled towards the racks. All around them there were others strapped to the racks, as well. The Demons tortured orcs, elves, humans- anyone placed in front of them until they screamed out in pain. Then they would ask if they wished it to stop, if they would do anything, even torture, to make it stop. When they said yes, the tortured became the torturer, sprouting horns and eyes turning black, becoming Demons themselves.

The Demons started the process on Dean first so that Sam could watch. Since he was a mage, Sam already had the Darkness inside of him, had mastered and controlled it. Dean, on the other hand, was still untouched by the Darkness.

With each cut, more of the Darkness seeped into him. Not only did the torture begin to drive him mad, but also Hell itself seemed to tear at his mind. A few lit torches added a slight color to the dim world, revealing a bloody landscape of flesh that writhed beneath his feet. The air was thick with the presence of the Darkness, burning Dean’s throat whenever he breathed.

A quick glance at Sam, and Dean could see his horns beginning to enlarge as he lost control of the Darkness inside of him. The pointed horns rose out of Sam’s head circling around like a crown. Taking this as a sign, the Demons took Sam off the rack even though his eyes had yet to become black. A Demon handed him the knife then Sam turned and stabbed him through the chest. He didn’t stop there, though.

Fire burst everywhere. It consumed the Demons then made its way to the people on the racks. They screamed out, but Sam only laughed. Years previously, they had lost their mother in a raid. Two year ago, they lost their father to a Demon named Azazel. Now Dean would lose Sam, too.

The Darkness that had already seeped into Dean began to whisper to him to stop fighting like Sam had done. If it was just himself, possibly, he would have given in, but with Sam losing control, he struggled even harder. He fought until he felt something break within him, deep inside as if his very soul had shattered.

That was when his world went white. When he came to his senses, all the Demons were gone, smoldering ash in their place. His cuffs were now loose, and he easily broke them. Sam sat in the middle of the wreckage. His hands were covering his face, but his horns were small again, meaning he had regained control.

Dean grabbed Sam and urged him to his feet. They located the tent their Demon torturer lived in, and they quickly found their original clothing waiting in a neat pile in a wooden chest, ready for them when they broke. After years of hunting, they had learned how to act quickly. They dressed at lightening speeds, grabbing their possessions in the process. For Dean, they were his jewelry and his medical bag while for Sam it was his staff and bag of holding. Then Dean took a carving knife and Sam took a meat cleaver before they both began running. Their escape wasn’t clean, however, and Dean could hear the hellhounds gathering in the distance.

Which was how he had came to be here, stumbling through Hell, trying to find his brother. He had been running for some time before the hellhounds began to whimper. As he continued forward, their whimpers became whines until they were flanking off, running back towards the Demon camps.

Dean didn’t understand why they had run until he slowed down his pace. With his heart no longer beating in his ears, he could hear a faint noise that emanated from the distance. Finding his salvation, Dean walked towards the sound.

As Dean moved closer, the faint sound became clearer. He slowly recognized it as a high-pitched scream. The screaming hurt Dean’s ears, but he shouldered on, merely covering them to prevent any damages.

The source of the sound proved to be a small cave. When Dean took a step inside, the screaming stopped almost instantly. Dean pressed his hand into the wall, feeling faces etched into the rock. He used it to venture further in so he could find whatever had scared off the hellhounds.

Dean squinted through the dark cave and saw a shape rustling a few feet ahead of him. He kept his hand on the wall as he raised the carving knife in case it attacked. The person remained low to the ground, hunched like a wounded animal.

“Dude, you okay?” Dean asked.

“Go,” responded a gruff voice. “I’m too dangerous to be around.”

“To the hellhounds, maybe, but for me, this is the safest place to be.”

“Not when it consumes me.”

“You’ve been corrupted?”

“I have failed you.”

“Failed me? I don’t even know you.”

The man turned his head to face Dean, revealing two luminous eyes. They had a feral glint in them as though they were on the edge of madness. Dean took an involuntary step back, shivering slightly under the furious gaze.

There was the rustle again, and the man below him seemed to grow in size. However, this proved to be false when a weak light began to glow above the man’s head. It flickered violently, but Dean could see clearly that there were two dark wings sprouting out of the man’s back. Spots on the wings were bare, though, revealing leathery skin underneath. He was also dressed in dented, iron armor and had a matching sword clutched tightly in his hand.

“I’ve never seen the Darkness do this,” Dean said, his eyes widening.

“Now do you see why you must go? Flee, quickly, before I change completely.”

“You can’t just give up! If there’s still some of your soul left-”

“I don’t have a soul. I never had a soul.” He grimaced as he rose to his feet, using his sword to support him as he tried to stand proudly. “I am an Angel. I came to raise you from perdition.”

“There’s no such thing,” he growled.

“Good. It gives you all the more reason to leave before I hurt you.”

“I might not believe in Angels, but I do believe in the Darkness. It whispers to you. It wants you to be like them, deformed and corrupted, but you can’t listen to it. You don’t have horns yet, you still have a chance!”

“I don’t have one! Like my siblings before me, I was doomed the moment I descended into this decrepit pit! You must leave before I do the one thing I swore I would not!”

“And what’s that?”

“Hurt you!”

“We just have to get you out of here. If we can, I can take you to my brother. He can help you control the Darkness; make it stop whispering these lies! Now come on!”

Dean reached forward and grabbed the man’s hand. When Dean’s skin made contact with the metal, a spark jolted through him. He pulled back to find the ring on his hand and amulet around his neck glowing softly like the light above the man’s head.

“What the Hell?” Dean asked, startled.

“The exact opposite,” the man said as he stared at Dean in wonder. “You’re a Cleric.”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I have some medical skills, but I’m not- I’m not a freaking Cleric.”

“Then why did your powers activate when you touched me? You wished to purify me, and your powers tried to make it so.”

Looking down at his hand, Dean could feel a light hum resonating from the ring. He flexed his fingers as the power flowed through them. The power was familiar like the glow from Demon camp. It was as if his soul was shattering all over again.

“This has to be a mistake. I don’t have a magical bone in my body.”

“It has nothing to do with your bones. A Cleric is made when the Darkness enters a Mortal’s body, but instead of succumbing to it or using it, the Mortal is able to expel it. They need more heart than one Mortal can possibly possess, and as a reward for being so strong-willed, they can not only cast healing but also strengthening magic.”

“What’s your name?”

The man paused before saying, “Castiel.”

Dean let out a low whistle. “Some name.” He licked his lips when Castiel didn’t respond and continued, “Seriously, Castiel, if I have that kind of magic now, and it reacted to you then it means I can heal you, right?”

“I’m struggling as it is-”

“Can I heal you, yes or no?”

Castiel sighed. “Yes, but there is a high chance that I am too corrupted for it to work.”

“We should try anyway then. If I can prevent one more person from having their life ruined then I’m going to take that chance, no matter how slim.”

“I still feel like the better solution would be for you to leave, but if you are determined then I do know of a ritual. However, I only know the mechanics as I’ve never seen it preformed in person.”

Dean began to roll up his sleeves. “That’s good enough for me. Tell me what I have to do.”

“First you need a vial-”

As Castiel spoke, Dean reached into his medical bag. Several of his vials were missing, possibly taken by the Demons. Thankfully, there were two long, empty vials left. Dean chose the cleaner of the two.

“After that, pluck a fresh feather from my wings then place it over the opening of the vial. Once it is secure, you need to slash my neck with my own sword. If I bleed red then it’s too late, but if I bleed light then I can still be saved.”

“Well, if I’m a Cleric and you begin to bleed, couldn’t I just heal that?”

“By then the corruption will be too far gone and all my grace would have been lost.”

“Okay, so then light means it’s working, blood mean it’s not.”

Castiel nodded his head, and Dean took in a deep breath. As Dean took the sword from Castiel, the man crumpled back onto the floor. Dean knelt down next to him then carefully searched for a fresh feather. He plucked one of the small feather then placed it over the chosen vial.

When the time came to slice Castiel’s throat, Dean’s hands were shaking. He inhaled sharply and willed them to stop before he gripped the sword tightly. He made a small slash under Castiel’s Adam’s apple and was startled when the wound began to grow. However, it was glowing, which according to the instructions, was a good sign.

The glow dripped out of the wound, slowly floating into the vial in Dean’s hand. Dean’s eyes were wide with amazement as the vial filled with what seemed to be pure light. Soon, the vial was full, and Dean capped it with a cork. The wound at Castiel’s neck stopped glowing, closing quickly, but leaving a large, red scar in its place.

“It’s done,” Castiel said, sitting up and rubbing his throat. “I can feel that it stemmed. As long as the vial remains sealed, the Darkness won’t corrupt me.”

“Will this ritual work on anyone? My brother is-”

“No, I’m sorry. It only works on Angels.”

Dean sighed. Sam had horns not wings, so the ritual wouldn’t work on him. However, that didn’t mean there wasn’t a ritual out there that could cure or at least stem the Darkness inside Sam.

“What now?” Castiel asked.

“Once you’re rested, we go look for my brother.” Dean looked away. “I’m sorry. I had ulterior motives for wanting to heal you.”

Castiel shook his head. “No, if your intentions would have been impure then the ritual would have failed. You truly wanted to save me.“

They fell silent after that so Castiel could have his rest. Castiel didn’t rest for long, and soon he was ready to head out into Hell. As Dean and Castiel prepared to leave the cave, Dean could only hope that Sam was safe.


End file.
